Office Date - Page 7

“After you.” He holds his hands out as the elevator doors open. You could fit an SUV in the hallway it’s so big. From what I can see, there are only four rooms on the floor; mine’s to the right, and Jack’s is to the left.”

“So…” He stops at his door. “Should we just plan on meeting up in an hour or so, just rip that Band-Aid clean off?”

“How romantic,” I grumble. “Rip the Band-Aid right off?”

“What?” He shrugs; his hands go to his head as they run through his gorgeous model-like hair. “I’m just saying the sooner we get done, the better, right?”

“Sure, teammate, sure.” I want to bang my head against my door. Instead, I call over my shoulder, “Think you can get dinner ready in an hour?”

He mouths it back to me like a toddler, then types in the code to his apartment while I look back at my door and do the same.

His door slams.

Mine follows.

Great start, truly a great start.

I lean against the door and look around. The apartment is super nice, not huge, but I at least have my own bedroom and a bathroom, the ceilings are at least twelve feet, and I have a giant window right in front of my living room that overlooks Lower Manhattan.

Let’s be honest, it’s probably one of the biggest apartments I’ve ever been in and could never afford even if I made six figures.

The kitchen is gourmet with whites and grays that make the space feel more open, and the couches match everything perfectly, almost making me want to stay off the couch just in case.

A faux fur rug is draped across the soft white suede couch, and they look so comfy I want to crash.

A flat-screen TV is bolted to the wall, and of course, they have succulents strategically placed around the living area.

I wish I could live here.

But it’s temporary, just like dum-dum across the hall—thank God.

I quickly open the card on the table and then stare into the ginormous basket that accompanies it.

I’m expecting perfumes and other products that women use during dates; instead, I’m staring at essential oils for seduction, a dress that looks like it would only fit a toddler, and a few other boxes I’m actually afraid to open.

“You can do this, you can do this,” I repeat to myself as I take the tiny black body con dress and pull it up against me. “He’s going to see my bits!”

Oh great, now I’m talking to myself.

I drop the dress and pick up the first box. The directions say to add just a bit of the pheromones to my pulse points, and behind my knees-what the hell did I get myself into?

Pheromones?

I shudder and open the next box.

Ah, perfume… perfume I can deal with.

It tells me to spray it on my right wrist and to shake my wrist until the perfume starts to fill the air.

The next card looks daunting, I pick it up, and all it says is. “Get him to seduce you, using the products, your charm, and the dating guide below.”

Well, shit did just hit the fan, didn’t it?

The dating guide has only four suggestions. “Lean in when he speaks to you, smile as often as you can, use any excuse to lightly touch him, and laugh at everything he says.”

Who the hell wrote this? I flip it over and roll my eyes. “From Max Emory’s Guide to Dating and Every other Life Question.”

He’s clinically insane, isn’t he?

It’s the only explanation.

How does his company even get away with this? Is it some rich person thing? And why do the interns have to test all the products?

I check my phone and realize I only have about forty-five minutes left to make this work. I hope to God that Jack’s struggling just as much as I am.

I don’t have to wait long as I attempt to pour myself into the black dress, put on some makeup—adding in the oils and weird perfumes, and topping it off with a low bun and the nude heels that were in the box next to the basket.

I add some lip gloss for effect and make my way across the hall; I lift my hand to knock, chicken out, then finally hold my breath as I knock twice.

When the door opens, Jack’s standing there completely shirtless. “I can explain.”

“Ummm…” I have nothing.

“It burned,” he blurts.

“The food?”

“My shirt.” He’s breathing heavily, and his face is cherry red as he glances around the room. “I mean, the food doesn’t look horrible, but the stove wasn’t working, and I got too close and—”

I cover my mouth to keep from laughing.

“Not funny.” His teeth clench. “I’m half-naked!”

Yeah, he is… ” Kind of, though?” I sidestep him just as he leans in and sniffs me.

Wait, is he actually sniffing my neck?

Tags: Rachel Van Dyken Romance
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